


(7) Lights

by Sarcasticles



Series: (7) Series [5]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasticles/pseuds/Sarcasticles
Summary: Fisher Tiger went to the surface seeking freedom and adventure. He found humanity instead.





	(7) Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another fic exploring slavery, racism, and classism in the world of One Piece, this time focusing on Fisher Tiger. As with the series so far there will be overlap of minor characters from previous stories, but the first four fics are not required reading. 
> 
> Life as a slave in the One Piece world is not a pleasant thing, and I'll not be pulling my punches. Right now I believe the work stays within the T rating, but that may change as I get more written. 
> 
> Lastly, kudos and comments help keep me motivated. I'll take positive and negative criticism, so tell me what you think.

_Beware the anglerfish’s light._

Fisher Tiger tossed fitfully in his narrow bed, same sentence running through his head over and over and over again. It was a popular saying in the Fishman District, equal parts warning and threat directed at upstart brats who needed to be put back in their place. _Watch yourself. If it sounds too good to be true that’s because it is. Go back to your gutter._

_Beware the anglerfish’s light._

With a frustrated sigh, Fisher swung his feet out of bed. He had to bend low to keep his head from hitting the top bunk, and it was with extreme caution that he navigated through the boy’s dormitory. The head of the orphanage was a nasty piece of work, and Fisher didn’t want to risk the buckle end of his belt being caught out of bed after curfew.

His shoulders were too wide to fit through the window most used when they wanted to sneak out, but Fisher was undeterred. He navigated each creaky floorboard easily, sliding through doors with hinges he’d oiled himself, before crouching just out of eyesight of the orphanage’s main entrance. He listened for the steady cadence of Old Man Izo’s soft snores, and he wasn’t disappointed. A quick glance of his watch showed that it was a quarter after one in the morning. He had plenty of time.

Taking a quick breath to steady himself, Fisher dashed past Izo and out the door. A strategically placed stone kept it from latching shut behind him. From there it was easy to jump the fence, and he was free.

The Fishman District was alight with torches and a bioilluminate chemical harvested from deep-sea fish. It was enough to navigate, but not enough to truly _see_ , and the flickering shadows gave those traveling Fishman Island’s poorest district a feeling like they were constantly being watched. Despite having made this journey countless times, a tingle of unease crept up Fisher’s spine.

He couldn’t hurry, but he didn’t have time to dawdle. Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, Fisher left the relative safety of the city and out to the bubble that marked the division between Fishman Island and the surrounding ocean.

Technically leaving the barrier by anything but the official exit point was illegal, but Fisher had never been one to be bothered by such trivialities. He’d learned a long time ago that what was legal and what was right were two very different things. The only thing that mattered in the shark-eat-shark world that was the Fishman District was strength, and having the wits to use it appropriately.

And Fisher Tiger was strong, there was no doubt about that. As for wits…

Fisher hid behind a large branch of coral while a patrolman walked past, counting the sound of his footsteps until he was sure he wasn’t coming back. There was one last, fleeting thought telling him it wasn’t too late to turn around, and then he broke out into a sprint.

He made it to the bubble in record time, his heart thundering in cadence with his footsteps. He thought he might have heard someone shout at him to stop, but that could have just been his own head. About a foot from the barrier he gathered himself, muscles coiling, and jumped headfirst out into the ocean.

Fisher’s momentum carried him into open water with a small _pop_ as the resin sealed itself behind him. He didn’t slow down to see if he was being followed. Even if he’d been seen there was no way the morons from the palace guard would brave the sea at this time of night.

Cold sapped the strength from his limbs, stole the breath from his chest. Fisher grit his teeth and plowed onward. Stopping now meant death. In the pitch black darkness he could hardly tell if he was swimming up or down, but he could _feel_ the presence of the ancient beasts that roamed the bottom of the sea.

Seconds felt like minutes and minutes like hours as he navigated the treacherous waters of the world’s most dangerous sea. Fisher had made this journey half a dozen times already in his young life, but never by himself. No one he knew, from the hardened thugs of the Fishman District to the trained men of the Palace Guard was crazy enough to go to the surface by themselves. Even if you knew how to avoid the dangers of the water, schools of pirates and slavers roamed freely, hunting for easy prey. A sixteen year old boy made an easy target.

Or so they thought.

Slowly the water began to warm, going from nearly freezing to a mere bone-chilling cold. Fisher felt the pull of an underwater current and allowed himself to be taken by it. He was going to make it in time!

 Minutes later he saw the light of the moon beckoning him closer, and it took every ounce of willpower not to jump out of the water. Fisher slipped out of the current and allowed himself to float the last few meters.

Fisher barely made a ripple as he breeched the water. He kept himself mostly submerged in case unfriendly eyes were watching, but he needn’t have bothered. The current led him away from the Saboady Archipelago by several kilometers, well away from the sentries that kept watch for his kind.

Fresh, cool air filled his lungs. He always forgot how much better surface air was than what the bubble of Fishman Island provided. The Fishman District felt stale in comparison. _Dead._ Surface air was crisp and clean and wonderful, and the only thing that could have made it better was if the sun was in the sky instead of the moon. Fisher had only gone to the surface during the day once, trying to prove himself to the older boys who had since left the orphanage to forge their own path.

Fisher frowned. Those same boys now made up the same drunks and vagabonds they had held in so much distain, kicked out of the orphanage the day they turned seventeen without so much as a thank you for their service. They had no education, no future, and no hope. Unless he did something about it, Fisher would join their ranks as the scum of society, pitied by some but hated by most.

He had no intentions of staying in the Fishman District, or even Fishman Island for that matter. Fisher Tiger took a deep breath of surface air and plunged just below the surface. He swam slowly, like a shark might swim after its prey. Each muscle was tense, ready to fight or flee if the need arose, every instinct on high alert. Mermaids might be the fastest swimmers in the sea but fishmen were the strongest, and even at sixteen Fisher was stronger than most.

Slowly the trees of the archipelago immerged over the horizon, as if the mangrove trees were sprouting right in front of his eyes. As he got closer he could hear the muffled sound of humans – screaming, laughing, living, dying on the island of vice and violence.

They didn’t interest Fisher. He skimmed the surface of the water until he reached the docks. It was only he reached the shadow of a great galleon that he bobbed out of the water once more. He could just barely see the amusement park through the borough of trees. The Ferris wheel was alight with red and green and white lights, traveling in its unbroken circle. Though the Ferris wheel was a great fascination for many of the denizens of Fishman Island, it didn’t mesmerize Fisher as it did the others.

No, he had not come to the surface to see the park or the trees or the humans. Fisher Tiger waited in a way precious few learned to wait, hearing everything from the lapping of the water against the galleon to the bustling night market. In the distance, the faint echo of an auctioneer’s microphone rang from one of the many slave houses.

Fisher forced that away. He was strong and sure of his ability, but he wasn’t suicidal. There was nothing he could do for those weak or stupid or unfortunate enough to be caught up in the slave trade. There was nothing anyone could do.

Finally he heard what he had come for – what he had risked his life for. From the amusement park came a high-pitched whistle, and Fisher’s eyes caught the trail of smoke shooting into the air a moment before the firework exploded with glittering blue light. A second firework followed, and a third, until the sky was full of smoke and light. There were whistlers that screamed before they exploded, fizzlers that sounded like water being thrown on hot iron, giant boomers that exploded in a great flash of light that left Fisher seeing spots for minutes. There was every color imaginable and several Fisher hadn’t realized existed until he saw their few seconds of light in the night sky.

Humans shouted and clapped with excitement at the display, but Fisher kept completely still, soaking in every moment but not allowing his happiness give him away. He was a monster here, unwelcome, unwanted, hunted.

He wasn’t any more accepted on Fishman Island, but old man Izo’s belt aside, no one had tried to kill him for it. Briefly Fisher thought of the mermaid who had started visiting the Fishman District. She was connected with the palace somehow, some young, blonde tart who came to the orphanage handing out sweets and the lie that humans were not to be feared.

The idiots at the palace didn’t see the truth: Humans were violent, dirty cowards who preyed on the weak and kissed the ass of anyone stronger than themselves. Fisher was used to dealing with their kind, and had no patience for the unrealistic rambling of an idealist.

In rare introspective moments Fisher would wonder why he made these surface visits, and was always disturbed when he couldn’t think of an answer.

The grand finale went on for a full five minutes, firework after firework being shot into the sky in a dazzling array of color and spectacle. The last shot was an orange sunburst so large it looked like it would touch the ground.

Fisher reached out before remembering it was only an illusion. He could no more catch the fire of a firework than he could hold the sun in his hands.

With a small sigh, Fisher Tiger took one, last gasp of surface air and began the journey home. He knew the currents and the dangers. He let his body take him while his heart remained on the surface, yearning for something he wasn't sure even existed. 


End file.
